Sweet Nothings
by awesomepossum
Summary: MS fluff. Flames welcome. Occurs after bait. I write lousy summaries. Oh yeah, first ff
1. after work

A/N hello all you out there in... wherever people go when they don't live at my house... anyways. First Fanfiction, flames welcome but only constructive flames. CONSTRUCTIVE! Yes. ahem anyway... here you go, my version of what happened after "bait".

Disclaimer: I don't own them, and as I am in no way associated with Jerry Bruckheimer, I never will own them. sob

"_Hey Martin?"_

"_Yeah?"_

"_Wanna share a cab?"_

"_Thanks, but I live uptown."_

"_I know."_

Martin held the door open for Samantha, and she stepped into the cab, shifting herself towards the further side to let Martin slide in beside her. He closed the door behind him and Samantha gave the driver the address of her apartment building.

Sam looked at the man sitting next to her in the cab. Her mind swirled with thoughts of when Martin came to the office, of Jack, of when she started calling Martin "Marty" and he – accidentally – called her Sam (and she set things straight), and the hurt look in Martin's eyes when he found that just about everybody except him knew about her affair with Jack. Her thoughts then drifted to a few hours ago, at the muggy dockside, when Martin – no, Marty – had heroically saved her life. Not that she couldn't have done it herself, of course.

Or could she have? Would she even be alive without Martin?

Martin stared at the beautiful Samantha, one of the reasons he had stayed in New York at the Bureau despite everybody's apparent prejudice towards white collar crime and his parentage. That wasn't his fault. Son of Victor Fitzgerald. God, he wanted that title off his back.

Martin looked at Samantha until she turned to look at him, and he shifted his eyes down, embarrassed. Mentally kicking himself and desperately wanting to physically, he glanced back up at Sam and was surprised to find that she had not looked away.

Doing anything to break the somewhat nerve wracking silence, Martin opened his mouth to fill the cab with small talk but found himself cut off.

"Thank you" came Sam's voice, startling Martin and relieving him of the pressure of speaking first and trying not to spill his feelings towards Sam out all over the place.

"For what?" asked Martin, knowing what Sam meant but feigning innocence, just to hear her explain it herself.

"Well, I guess, for being there for me – in more ways than one. When I was shot, when I was almost shot again..." a nervous giggle escaped from Samantha's throat. Nervous? She had no need to be nervous. This was Martin here. Then again, that was a perfectly good reason to be nervous. "How", she continued, "How did you know to be there, at the docks, right at that time?" 'What', she thought to herself, 'what if you weren't?'

Martin thought about this. He replied "I really don't know", which was a lie. He had been watching out for Sam ever since the group had split up to search for the kidnappers who had run. Actually, he had been watching out for Sam since she began to show her weak side to him, which he knew she had not wanted him to see.

"Well thank you anyway", laughed Samantha. Not the answer she'd expected from ready-for-anything Martin.

He looked at Sam for some time in silence, his eyes smiling the way only Sam could make them, and he leaned in to her and softly replied "You're welcome".

With Martin leaning in to whisper these last words, Sam took advantage of the situation. She looked up, her hand somehow finding its way behind Martin's back, and placed her lips softly on Martin's. She could feel his pulse quicken through his shirt, and realized her other hand was on his chest, making its way up to his face. She smiled inwardly at this and offered no resistance when Martin pressed himself to Sam tighter, shifting in his taxi seat, wrapping his arms around her waist.

Feeling Sam beside him was thrill enough for Martin before, and now, with her in a New York taxi bound for her apartment, he almost couldn't believe it. It had been almost two years now and he had finally made his move. 'Well, technically, Sam made her move, not me', thought Martin to himself as he pulled tighter to the blonde finally returning his affection. 'After all, she broke the ice and it's her apartment we're bound for.'

Deep inside, Martin had always belittled himself – thinking he couldn't get a job himself with "daddy dearest" around, thinking he was too dependant – and the first few months at the Bureau didn't help his situation. Especially when he fell for Samantha, and she shunned, even lashed out at him. He thought this was all part of the prejudice game. He never thought she blocked him because of Jack.

Jack.

'Jack is just a memory – our affair is just an unhappy memory' thought Sam, shifting in her seat yet again to be closer to Martin. Though it seemed nearly impossible to get any closer she tried, eager to take him in – his feel, his scent, his taste – everything. He was so full of passion and affection, and only for her. This had never been the case with Jack. Stolen glances, careful cover-ups, curious stares, and worst of all the threat of being caught. At the time it seemed right, but now she could see it was horribly, bitterly wrong. She was a home wrecker. Her relationship with Jack would never had worked, even if he hadn't called an end to it, and she was now regretful that it had even begun.

As Sam and Martin's inner soliloquies left them pondering their pasts, the grimy New York taxi cab ground to a halt outside of Sam's apartment.

"This the one, lady?" snarled the unkempt driver, snapping both passengers to their wits.

"Yeah, this is it", groaned Sam, reluctantly withdrawing from her reverie. As she opened her pocketbook for the $7.50 fare, she felt Martin's gentle but firm hand stop hers as he offered the scruffy driver a 10 dollar bill.

"Martin, you don't have to..."

"Sam, c'mon, chivalry isn't dead", replied Martin jokingly.

"Never said it was", replied the now slightly indignant federal agent, fixing her hair from her... latest taxi ride.

Martin and Sam strolled to the doors of the apartment building, arms around each others' waists. As they reached the doors, Martin opened one for Sam, but being stubborn as she was (and still slightly miffed for the chivalry bit – she did not need anybody's help or assistance!) she snubbed Martin's door and opened her own. Martin shrugged and followed her into the yellow-lit lobby.

After pressing the up button on the wall next to the elevator, Sam became aware of how rude she had just been to Martin. After all, he had just been trying to help her, it was his nature. She turned to Martin sheepishly, in half apology, and touched his arm warmly. He seemed to understand, and the sparkle of life behind his eyes was visible again. Relieved, Sam pecked Martin sweetly on the lips before the elevator doors opened onto and old, sour looking lady with too many shopping bags for her own good. Martin offered assistance to the lady, who bitterly refused to be helped. Sam glanced over at Martin, who seemed pretty good natured about the old lady, but she couldn't help casting a disappointed look in his direction as she came to the same conclusion Martin had: they'd have to hold off in the elevator, or at least until the old lady and her bags left them in solitude.

"What floor, Sam—antha?" asked Martin, catching himself before he used the pet name Sam abhorred.

"9" replied Sam, glancing at the row of lit buttons on the wall. Just her luck. The old woman, standing between her and Martin, was bound for the tenth floor – she'd get off the elevator after them. They'd have to hold off in the elevator altogether, or risk a phone call from the superintendent on behalf of the old lady. "And it's okay, Marty, to call me Sam", she finished, using Martin's own abbreviated name jokingly.

Smiling knowingly across the small elevator, Martin caught a reproachful look from Sam which he then mirrored, suggesting something along the lines of "we'll just have to wait". Damn.

After an excruciating nine floors, Sam and Martin carefully edged around the old lady and her bags into the cooler hallway air.

"905" said Samantha, indicating her apartment number. "This way."

'What am I doing?' she thought, 'I'm actually bringing Martin to my apartment? I can't believe I couldn't stand this guy almost two years ago... so much has changed...'

Sam started digging through her purse for her keys, standing facing her door, back to Martin. He came up behind her and wrapped both arms around her waist, leaning his face into her neck and breathing in her scent. Standing waiting for the door to be opened, Martin tried to grasp all that had happened in the last twenty four hours between him and the girl in front of him.

Last night, Martin had been in bed, alone, dreaming of Samantha and wishing their friendship was... more than that. This morning they had still been friends. This evening, just a few short hours ago, Martin had saved her life and tonight – well, tonight would go how it would, just beyond the door in front of him.

A/N so, you like? Lisa I know, you probably have no idea what's going on... please R&R, and like I said flames welcome. Next chappy already written but I won't bother posting if people don't like this. Arrivedeurci!


	2. at her apartment

A/N: Hello out there! Decided to post chap two, whether you people like it or not!! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Here it is, hope you like, again, flames welcome. MartinSam is the only thing goin on here so don't be expecting ANYTHING to do with a JS pairing except some character musings. JS is just... weird. (no offence meant, just... think about it.)

Disclaimer: still not in any way mine.

Samantha found her keys and hurriedly opened the door to her apartment. She led Martin in and let him look around, taking in the tidy apartment, before she took off his coat... then shirt...

Being with Samantha was like nothing else to Martin. She was so vibrant (when she wanted to be), and so gorgeous. Yet when they came to Sam's bed, Martin topless and Sam getting there, something stopped him. He couldn't go any further with Sam, at least not yet. He knew she still had feelings for Jack 24 hours ago... but that was 24 hours ago. A lot had happened in 24 hours.

Samantha stood, arms around Martin, looking at him in a way that betrayed her confusion. Why had Martin stopped? Didn't he feel the same way about her as she did now about him? Or had she let her guard down too far and someone was about to get hurt?

"Martin? Martin, what's wrong? Look at me. What's the matter?"

Martin sat down heavily on the bed and sighed.

"Jack", he replied quietly. "Jack's the matter".

"Jack? Jack is the matter? Oh, Martin, don't be ridiculous. That was before you moved here, before I had... before I had met you. I needed someone then. If you had been there things would have been different. Honestly."

Almost flattered but too depressed, Martin continued, almost accusingly.

"Everyone knows you still love Jack. I don't want to be with you if you love someone else. I do love you, Sam, but if you can't love me back then this won't work. It can't work."

"Martin, if that's what you think, then you need to know this. One, I don't care what "everybody" knows. Two, I love you, not Jack. Three, I never was in love with Jack. I thought I was, but in truth I was in love with the idea of loving someone and having them love me back. I needed someone, and Jack was there. With you, it's different. I can open up with you, and I can feel how that makes you feel. It's made us closer. I never opened up this much with anybody before, never became friends first, never shared so much with someone – especially not with Jack. But here we are now, and here I am, ready to let go of Jack, and it's you who he's holding back."

'How ironic' thought Martin. 'But is she serious? She never even loved Jack? Could sweet little Sam be so... so easy as to sleep with her boss out of need?'

Taking in the bewildered look on Martin's face, Samantha sighed and sat on the bed next to him, rubbing her leg against his, hoping Martin would see that she never really _did_ love Jack. Sighing again, she clasped Martin's hand in both of hers.

"It's the truth. And I don't want you to think differently of me because of it, because I love you. I do." With that, Sam dropped Martin's hand and hung her head. She was somewhat startled when she felt Martin's gentle fingers gingerly tilting her head up into the sweetest kiss either of them had ever experienced.

A/N: Hee hee. I hope they get together next season. (paces waiting for September) REVIEW!! Or the wrath of the FBI FF writers shall be upon you! (laughs maniacally)


	3. the morning after

A/N: third chapter here, rarin to go! Enjoy.

Disclaimer: none of WaT will be mine until September when the first season comes out on DVD! Another reason to wait for September... sigh

Martin woke up, slightly disoriented, sat up and looked around him. He was in Sam's bedroom, which both amazed and confused him; after all, he never thought Sam would show... _this_ much interest in him. He took in his surroundings.

The room was bright because of the pale morning sunlight streaming in from the nearby lightly curtained window. The room itself was a pale yellow, coordinating with everything – the furniture, the throw rug on the floor, even Sam's mop of disheveled blonde hair which covered the pillow next to Martin.

Sam. Martin smiled and tousled her hair, then leaned in to kiss her head before lying back down again.

Sam stirred and rolled over. Taking time to wake up a little before she opened her eyes, she recapped last night and tried to put her thoughts on a more organized level.

Jack. Martin. Vivian and Danny's exchanged eyebrow-raised glances.

What a triangle she had dragged Martin into.

Sam shifted again and came into contact with something warm, which then enveloped her. She opened her eyes, finally, and turned around to find herself in Martin's arms, staring at his bare chest.

'Not a bad view', she smiled to herself. A/N: it's really not ;) She let her eyes travel upwards to meet Martin's gaze.

"Mmm... good morning", she mumbled. Then confused, suddenly, "What time is it? What _day_ is it? Do we have to work today?!"

"Relax, Sam," came the soft reply, breathed into Sam's neck, "It's Saturday. You know, the _one_ day of the week we get to take off?" Martin joked. Work wasn't work. He loved his job... now.

"Yet you usually end up working it anyways" teased Sam. Martin had become a bit of a workaholic. No, a _lot_ of a workaholic.

"At least I get overtime for it. Listen, do you wanna go out for breakfast? Or not just yet..." he grinned playfully.

"Hmm. Well, I'm not really all that hungry right now, I _could_ wait..." came the answer Martin had hoped Sam would give.

Wrapping his arms around Sam tighter and drawing her close, Martin wondered to himself 'Is this it? Are we an item? Or is this just part of Sam trying to replace Jack?' He still didn't really believe her story about not loving Jack. It just didn't seem like that was the truth. Looking back now, Martin had noticed signs of the affair, but he had just been too caught up with his own feelings for Sam to see what was really going on. He now knew what Sam's counseling sessions had been about. It wasn't really about being shot or killing two men. The counselor had been trying to get Sam to open up about her affair, but Samantha had remained obstinate and closed. Maybe it _was _because she didn't love Jack... or maybe it was because she was in denial. Most likely, knowing Sam. Martin stopped thinking for a moment as he felt Samantha's hand crawl around his side to his back, and moments later their lips made contact. Whatever Sam was feeling didn't stop her from trying to love Martin, at least.

'Samantha Fitzgerald' thought Sam as her tongue sought Martin's. 'Lovely ring to it. It would bring an end of all those stupid 'Sam Spade' jokes...' she paused in her thoughts. 'Oh, my God, am I _actually_ putting my name with his? After one night? Wake up, Spade! It's not like he wants anything _serious_, right? Right?'

The sun rose higher in the sky outside the little yellow room, and Martin's stomach made a desperate plea for food. Hoping Samantha didn't hear, Martin moaned, half in cover-up and half in response to Sam's lips on his. Breaking away and giggling, Samantha sat up on the edge of the bed, then walked over to her closet and slipped her housecoat on, which, Martin noticed, was also yellow. "Hungry?" asked Samantha, somewhat disappointed that Martin's basic needs were interfering with her own.

Martin sighed and got up as well. "Apparently. Should we head out for breakfast?"

Samantha bent down to pick up Martin's discarded clothing, among them a pink shirt that she wouldn't have minded wearing herself. She tossed them on the bed and answered "Sure, there's a little café down the street and I know they serve breakfast, we can walk over and then take a walk in Central, if you want..."

"Sounds great to me," said Martin as he put on his clothes from the night before. He watched Sam silently pick out her wardrobe for awhile, before she noticed the silence and turned around to find Martin staring. And smiling. God, she loved that smile. She put the clothes she had chosen on the floor and sat down on the bed next to Martin, who was already fully dressed, and kissed him sweetly on the lips. She headed into her bathroom.

"Quick shower. I'll be right out," she smiled and winked, and stepped into her ensuite closing the door behind her.

Martin got up and left the bedroom to get a better look at the living room, which he hadn't really gotten a good look at last night on account of... better things to do. It was a rich red, with matching furniture just like the bedroom. Samantha had quite the eye for design. In the corner, a kitchenette sat behind a dining table with space enough for one, maybe two at most. The whole place seemed very snug and cozy, but despite the rich colours and decorative knickknacks, there wasn't a single picture to be found save one of the team at a bar. Martin walked over to the picture and picked it up, the frame heavy and stained mahogany. He recognized this picture; it was one taken at the bar down the street from the bureau right after a tough case that they had managed to crack after a week of grueling investigations. The team looked tired and haggard, but happy that they had solved the case. Martin's arm was around Sam's shoulders, and as Martin looked closer, Sam seemed to be leaning into him and away from Jack who stood stoic in front. 'Interesting,' thought Martin, 'This was right after I learned about the affair... apparently Sam needed me more than I thought'. At that moment, Sam stepped out of the bedroom dressed and ready to go.

"What's that?" asked Samantha, referring to the picture in Martin's hands.

"Oh, just a photo from your table here," replied Martin, putting it back down, smiling that he had been needed before Sam thought of him as a romantic interest. "Shall we?" They linked arms and left Sam's apartment, locking the door behind them.

A/N: well there you go. Not much else to say... Review now!! Go on! Shoo!


	4. breakfast

A/N: wheeeeeeeeee fourth chapter!! lol. and yes, although the third season has started already (ow ow ;) lol) i am continuing without editing to fit the show. so muahaha bite me, bruckheimer!!

Disclaimer: i didnt mean it, jerry. I'm sorry. but i still own nothing. (sigh)

Sitting across from Martin on the outdoor patio of the café near her apartment, Samantha twirled her twizzle stick in her coffee absentmindedly and stared off into space. Her mind wandered again to her affair, and she wondered what Martin had made of it and how things would be different if it had been Martin two years ago, if it hadn't been Jack. If they'd been together now, and if Jack had never broken it off with her... Martin wouldn't be sitting in front of her now. Seeing Martin's hand waving in front of her face, she snapped back to reality and laughed at how stupid she must have looked just staring at... nothing.

Martin waved his hand in front of Samantha's face. She jumped, startled, and opened her eyes wide, laughing. "Oh, good, thought I'd lost you there," Martin joked. "Who knew you could be such a space cadet?" Samantha hit his arm playfully before taking a sip of her coffee.

"I'll have you know I was thinking," she replied. 'Wow, that was a great comeback' she thought. 'I just totally set myself up. Here it comes...'

"Thinking? You do that?" retorted Martin, mocking her.

"Ouch, that was uncalled for," pouted Samantha, frowning. She took a bite of her bagel and leaned closer to Martin over the table. "So if I forgive you for making fun of me," she paused and smiled, "will you... buy me lunch too?"

"How about this instead," said Martin excitedly, and by the look on his face Sam could tell he'd been sitting on this awhile. "I know this little park not far from here, a little east of Central, and I was thinking we could, you know," he paused, unsure of whether or not Samantha would go for his idea, "go for a picnic, maybe?"

Seeing Martin's tense look, realizing he was hoping he didn't just embarrass himself with a dumb idea, Sam agreed. She had never seen the sense in picnics; eating on the cold dirty ground letting ants and other disgusting things get all over the food... but Martin seemed so earnest and innocent in his offer that she felt she really had no choice in what her answer would be. She opened her mouth to consent and found Martin staring at her with those gorgeous eyes and a nervous smile on his lips. Finding herself speechless she nodded dumbly, then embarrassed at her loss of words she smiled and answered "Of course. That – that sounds great. Sure!"

Determined to make Sam have a good time on their picnic, Martin excused himself from breakfast, paid the bill before leaving and set off to pack a lunch for the two of them. Sam watched him retreating down the sidewalk just across the metal fence of the café as he hailed a cab, and missed him already. But a new thought came to mind as she realized she had just agreed to go picnicking. 'I really, _really_ don't want to go on a picnic, of all things...' she said to herself. 'How can I get out of this? Ugh, but he really wanted to...' Arguing with herself over whether or not to call the whole thing off and feel really bad about it, Sam nearly missed noticing the little specks of rain falling on her napkin. As a drop landed on her hand and Samantha began to realize that the amount of rain falling was increasing, she smiled and saw that the heavens had given her a good excuse to get out of an event she hadn't attended since she was a very young child. She pulled out her cellphone to cancel on account of rain, and smiled as she joined the rest of the patrons hurrying inside the café.

Martin picked up his ringing cellphone as he threw another bag of chips into his shopping cart and continued down the never ending aisle of junk food.

"Fitzgerald,"

"Hey Martin," came the unmistakable voice of the woman he loved.

"Sam! Missed me already, eh?" he chuckled.

"Mmhmm, you bet. Listen, I don't know if you can see the sky from where you are, but there seems to be a scheduling conflict between us and the weather."

"What do you mean?" Martin queried, hoping that the picnic wouldn't have to be called off...

"Just what it sounds like. Apparently, the weather gods didn't get the memo that a picnic was supposed to be happening today 'cause the floodgates are open. I was thinking instead, we could postpone the picnic and you could just come over instead?"

Martin sighed, audibly disappointed. He had wanted to spend the day outdoors, but that looked like it wasn't going to be happening, at least not today. "Sure, that'd be great... I'll be right over Sam, see you in a few."

"Yep, see ya," breathed Sam, relieved and content that Martin would be over at her apartment again today. She quickly tidied up what little disorder was evident in her home and settled on the couch for a bit to watch T.V.

Martin put the items from his cart back on the shelves of the supermarket, all but some frozen pizzas. If he wasn't going on a picnic lunch with Sam he would at least have some form of lunch with her. He lined up in the shortest queue and waited patiently to pay for his food, wondering what Sam was up to...

Minutes later, Martin was on his way to Sam's apartment, pizzas thawing beside him in the backseat of a cab. Rain pounding on the windows verified the cancellation of the picnic but did nothing to dampen Martin's spirits. He was going – for the second day in a row! – to Samantha's apartment to spend the day. Martin relaxed and sat back against the cab seat, watching the people and cars of New York pass him by in the rain.

A/N: wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!


	5. rain in the streets

A/N: only five chapters still. sigh. oh well, third season started, so my muse **should** start working again soon (glareglareglare) lol.

Disclaimer: does anyone know where to get the 1st season dvd and how much it is? coz thats the only way i'll own ANYTHING WaT.

All the traffic ground to a halt. The taxi swerved and skidded along the wet pavement in a dangerous test of recently inspected brake pads. Up ahead, not three cars in front, Martin could see a dangerous accident taking up most of the roadway. The cabby swore under his breath at the inconvenience caused and changed lanes immediately, speeding ahead and around the traffic before the road was closed. The back tires swung out and Martin clung to the door in an effort to remain upright. Unfortunately, despite the cabby's best efforts to beat the roadblock, the police still managed to close the road just as the cab was about to pass and the car was stopped for who-knew-how-long.

Sam's home line went off, alerting her to a (thankfully) non-business call. Wondering where Martin was and if he was okay, she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Oh, hey, Sam, I've brought lunch but I'm afraid it'll defrost... see, I'm sitting in the cab right now and there's been an accident..."

"Oh my God, are you okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Is it..."

Martin cut her off. "No, not me, I'm fine. It's just that the road's closed indefinitely and I might be awhile, that's all," he explained, happy that Sam cared enough to feel genuinely worried about him. "I might just get out and walk if it gets really bad."

"Alright, as long as you're safe. See you when you get here."

"See ya, love you," he said. Oops, did he just say that?

Did he just say that? "Bye... love you too..."

Sam returned to her television show, glowing too much to concentrate on it, however. Just then the door buzzed, and Sam got up to answer the intercom.

"Who is it?"

"Hey Sam, it's me. We need to talk, can I come in?" It was Jack. Her glow faded.

"Uhh... sure... just a sec," she replied, opening the door that lead into the apartment downstairs.

Jack knocked on her door a few minutes later.

"Come in, it's open," Samantha called.

The door opened and there stood Jack. Sam sat on the couch with her back turned. "So talk," she said coldly.

"Sam... I'm getting a divorce and it was Marie's idea. She said... she said she didn't want to move to Chicago with me after all," he started, melancholy and nervous.

"That's nice, Jack," Samantha said as she continued to pretend to watch her show.

"So... just thought I'd let you know," he finished awkwardly.

"And you couldn't phone me because...?"

"I just was out, and decided to drop by, and I thought I'd tell you in person, that's all," covered Jack. He'd really hoped Samantha would be happy he came in person, and wanted to pick up where they left off. It really didn't look like it was going to turn out that way.

"For your information, Jack, I'm expecting company," said Sam as the phone began to ring. Both ignored it. "So if you don't mind leaving, I think that would be best."

"Company?" Male company, most likely. Ring. Why not him, he asked himself. Why couldn't Marie have asked for a divorce a little earlier? Ring.

"Yes, company," stated Sam, in a 'get-your-butt-out-of-my-apartment' way. The answering machine picked up with a grainy sound.

_Beep._ "Hey Sam, it's Martin, listen, traffic just picked up and the road's clear so I'll be over in two shakes. Luv ya, bye." Click.

"Company?" inquired Jack again, but his voice was more defeated than inquisitive or suspicious. Martin. Why?

"Yes, company," said Sam again, with a more bitter tone than before. "Please leave, he'll be here any minute."

"Sam, I hope you know what you're doing," said Jack in a warning tone. He trusted Martin as one of his staff... but what would he be like in his personal life? He'd never seen Martin outside of work. He just hoped for Samantha's sake that he'd be good to her.

"Goodbye, Jack."

"Goodbye."

Sam had returned to watching her program, but the glow had gone almost completely. She honestly didn't give two thoughts to Jack and his marital status anymore. She fell again into that half-sleep that had nearly consumed her before Martin's first call. Martin... the picnic! If she pretended she like picnics, she'd undoubtedly be forced on one when the weather cleared up. She had to think of something to say to prevent a picnic... 'Oh, why not, just tell him you hate them' came her subconscious. 'But do it gently. Let him down easy.' For God's sake, she wasn't breaking up with him, just saying she hated picnics! What was the problem?

The door buzzed, jolting Sam out of her half-sleep. She blinked several times before getting up off the couch and going to answer the bell, even though she knew perfectly well who it was.

"Who is it?" she asked flirtingly into the intercom.

"Your tardy knight with shining pizza," came Martin's reply.

A few minutes later, Sam and Martin were curled up on her sofa sharing recently baked frozen pizza (salvageable despite being partially defrosted) and a bag of microwave popcorn. Not much was on TV, so the two took to talking.

"Martin," asked Sam, hesitantly, "can I tell you something?"

"Sure, anything. Go right ahead," came Martin's somewhat concerned response. What was this going to be about?

"I... I hate picnics. I can't stand them," she hurried on, hoping not to hurt Martin's feelings but trying to get out of rescheduling a picnic. So much for gentle.

"You hate picnics?" This was not what Martin had been expecting and definitely something that made him a little embarrassed for asking in the first place.

"I don't like them at all. The bugs, the ground... I'd much rather be, oh, say, sitting in front of the T.V. with pizza and popcorn on a rainy day," Sam covered, hoping she hadn't offended Martin. But really, a picnic?

"I guess that makes sense," Martin shrugged. "So why did you agree in the first place then, if you didn't want to go? You could have just said so"

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings, after all, it looked like you'd been planning a picnic for a while and I didn't want it to be spoiled," she explained, slightly regretful that she'd brought up the point at all.

"Don't keep things from me if they're going to make you miserable," said Martin, clearly upset.

"Ooh, do that again," said Sam, giggling despite herself.

"Do what again?" asked Martin, confused. Was she changing the topic on purpose...?

"You pouted. Do it again," commanded Ms. Samantha Bossy Spade.

"I did not pout," said Martin disdainfully. "I've got too much pride."

"Your pride just went out the window, baby, so suck it up and pout again!"

"Fine...you mean... like this?" asked Martin, pouting, which made Samantha giggle again.

"If all your ex-girlfriends could see you now, they'd be _so_ jealous," joked Sam, loving the moment.

"You bet," answered Martin, getting up off the couch and taking Samantha with him. "Put down your pizza, we're going out!"

Martin led Samantha by the hand all the way down the stairwell and out the door of her apartment into the rainy street.

"Martin what are you doing?! If you haven't noticed it's incredibly wet out here..."

"I know, that's the point," said Martin, grinning cheekily.

"What's the point? The fact that it's raining?!" asked Sam, getting really ticked off. Her shoes were filling with puddle water, the further they walked.

"Sure... if it wasn't raining, could I do... this?" shouted Martin over the noise of the rain as he kicked up a huge amount of rain from a puddle in Sam's direction, drenching her.

Sam gasped for air, soaking wet. "That's it, kiddo, you asked for it!" And she shoved Martin into a puddle. "Nobody messes with the great Sam Spade! Hah!"

"The great? Since when?" shouted Martin over the noise of the cars honking at the idiots in the middle of the road. He sent another arc of water spraying in Sam's direction.

"Since always, and don't forget it!"

"Yeah, I'll try not to," said Martin, rolling his eyes.

"What was that?" Sam said, squelching her feet noisily up to Martin's side. "Did you roll your eyes at me? Do you have some sort of a death wish or something?"

"Obviously, otherwise why would I be here with you at all?"

"That's it," said Sam, and she pulled Martin's soaking wet collar towards her under an awning and pressed her lips to his.

And they stayed that way until the streetlights came on over them and the rain stopped.

A/N: hahahahahahahaaa!!! who said JS isnt dead? COZ IT SEEMS LIKE IT IS! either that or i'm having a massive and detailed hallucination but im pretty sure i saw some MS there last thursday!!!! HAHAHA! (and ARRRRGH why wont this site let me use asterisks???? i HATE brackets!) (pouty face)


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